Slipping Away
by shesxe1ectric
Summary: My interpretation of Snake and Meryl's relationship and how it ended. I had this idea for a long time and it took me forever to get the guts to publish it. Enjoy.
1. Meryl

Dave.

It seems like so long ago when I could say that name without choking. He was someone I loved. But now... I'm done with playing little love games.

Or that's what I try to tell myself.

Our relationship started like out of a storybook... riding off into the sunrise, on a snow mobile's back. He said he'd take a new direction in life - that up to that point, he had only lived for himself. Although I assured him that that's everyone... he said that maybe he should live for someone else.

Someone like me.

At the time, hearing those words made me giggle like a school girl. It had been exactly what I wanted to hear... because I fell in love.

He had taken me back to his place, and needless to say, we had finally got our love scene, and it was truly an amazing experience. The first few months were equally as amazing. I was acquainted with his dogs, and seeing him with them warmed my heart. Time was spent exploring the area, camping, even going to town. Dave showed me a lot of beautiful things.

But after a while, things started to change.

It started off as what seemed to be harmless sleeplessness on his part. He'd toss and turn. And when he would finally get to sleep, he would wake himself up. There would be times I would feel him violently shake awake. I would hear his heavy breathing. I would smell his sweat. Or worse... I would feel his gun to my head.

My eyes met his. He was like a man possessed. He looked at me like I was his enemy. I was too afraid to move, so I spoke softly...

"Dave... Dave, put the gun down..."

After what seemed like an eternity of silence, his unblinking eyes softened. He looked at me, but his gaze shifted to his gun. He pulled the gun away quickly, and tossed it to the side. Before it even clattered to the floor, he grabbed me and embraced me. He held onto me for dear life for quite some time. He whispered the words "I'm sorry."

I couldn't help but forgive him.

The next morning was awkward to say the least, but Dave tried his damndest to make me feel comfortable. He took me to town, bought me dinner... and it was great.

But then the nightmares started. He would startle me awake with yelling in his sleep. He would flex and toss, even worse than before. His eyes would be glazed in the mornings, and he'd walk around like a zombie all day. He neglected his dogs, he neglected me. But even worse, he neglected himself. This started the downward spiral.

Then he started drinking. He would sometimes leave without saying a word, and come home late at night, even into the morning, tripping over himself. He smelled heavily of smoke and cheap whiskey. And when he would come home, he'd go straight upstairs and crash and burn. Although this seemed to quiet his horrible nightmares, he was not himself.

I confronted him about his drinking.

"You're going to kill yourself." I said to him.

He shrugged and simply said, "Gotta die somehow..."

He brushed past me and walked out the door, slamming it behind him. I sighed heavily and willed myself not to cry. I turned and yanked the door open and yelled his name. He didn't even turn. I was so furious. I slammed the door and leaned against it, sliding down, holding my face in my hands. I couldn't help it.

I waited up for him. But he didn't return until daybreak. I had been sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee when he finally came back. He walked into the kitchen and was startled to see me sitting there.

"Where were you, Dave?"

"Out."

I sighed and got up. I walked to him, and could smell the smoke and alcohol on him. I folded my arms and looked into his eyes. I felt a chill run through my body. His eyes told me everything... they lacked the warmth they once held for me. I saw nothing there. This was not Dave.

"Out where?"

"Why all the fucking questions?"

"Because you've been out all night! I had no idea where you were! You could have been laying in the gutter, dead! What the hell was I supposed to think?!" I had begun to lose my composure.

And he simply replied, "You wouldn't understand."

"Then help me to understand, Dave!" I pleaded.

"Do you think that you can just show up and tell me how to live my fucking life, Meryl?!"

I was a little stunned at his response.

"NO, DAVE. I don't! But you need to let me in!"

He stared at me for a moment, but then turned his back on me and walked upstairs. I heard the door slam and then... silence. I didn't know what to do with myself. I had to get my mind off of this. It had to be a phase, it had to end soon...

I kept myself busy for quite some time by cleaning, chores, running errands, playing with the dogs... anything. I was at the kitchen counter, nursing a mug of tea when I felt him behind me. He wrapped his arms around my waist and held me. I didn't know what to do or think. All I knew was... it felt nice. I put the mug down and ran my hands down his strong arms, entwining my fingers with his. It felt good to be held... it felt good to... dare I say, loved.

But it was short lived.

I felt pressure from his hands on mine.

"Ow... Dave..."

He spun me around and slammed me against the counter, bending me back. There had been times where he had been rough, but this was a different rough. This wasn't playful. He tried so desperately to tear my clothes off, but I grabbed the cup of tea and threw it in his face. He cried out in pain and immediately got off of me. He covered his face and turned away from me. I was breathing so hard, my heart was racing. I was scared to death. He turned slowly towards me with the expression of a wounded animal on his face.

"WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?!" I screamed at him.

He looked lost.

"What? Meryl, I-"

"Get away from me!" I yelled as I stormed upstairs, trying to hold back my tears. "I don't know who you are anymore!"

He got the hint and slept on the couch. I cried myself to sleep that night.

After that, we didn't talk for a few days... we both wandered the house like gunslingers, trying to stay out of eachother's way. I stayed busy by finding things to do around the house... him, likewise. He spent a lot of time with the dogs during these dark days. And, as always, he'd go drink his sorrows away.

I caught him looking at me a few times with a pained expression. But he always looked so dazed. I don't think he even realized what he tried to do. I don't think he even knew who he was anymore. And it hurt me to see him like that.

After a few days, I came down the steps and looked at the couch to see it vacant. It didn't surprise me in the least bit... but when he came walking through the door, cleaned and dressed, it did shock me. He hadn't looked like he spent all night drinking - he looked like he had been out, doing something productive. But the biggest shock of all was to see him carrying flowers. He looked up at me on the steps, a little surprised to see me standing there. He looked... nervous. It was very unlike him. He shifted his weight, was fiddling with his pocket... but when his eyes caught mine, he stopped. We stared at eachother, both at a loss for words. I descended the final steps and slowly walked towards him.

"Meryl..." he said in a hushed voice.

I walked to him and put a finger to his lips, instantly silencing him. Although we spoke no words, there was so much that was communicated. His eyes were clear again - not clouded by misery. He pulled me into an embrace and held me tight. And that night was spent reacquainting ourselves with eachother.

But when I woke up the next morning... I knew he was gone. I didn't even have to inspect the house... or read the one-line note he had left me... to know. I just felt it. He wasn't coming back. The silence that coursed through the house was almost deafening. I rose out of my bed and went downstairs. I don't know why I even bothered to open the front door. Maybe part of me was expecting to see him. But when I saw nothing, or no one, I only felt an inkling of disappointment, because I knew exactly what I would find. I closed the door and walked through the house. Everything had been left where it was, except for the clothes in his drawers, and the dogs were gone. I returned upstairs. There was nothing left for me here. My day was spent packing my things. I left that house, and left for Washington DC at a later time. On the plane, I read his note over and over.

"I'm sorry."

So little said so much. I could feel his shame, his angst, his anger, his sadness... all put into those two words. I looked out the window to see the sun setting. I realized that the chapter of my life with him had begun with a sunrise, and now, was ending with a sunset. It made me realize that there will be another sunrise for me. But somehow...

"I'm sorry."

I wish he had embraced me like he embraced his loneliness. I wish he had loved me like he loved his sadness... But I think the inner demons he harbored left no room to let anyone else inside. The time that he spent fighting those demons left him no time for anyone else.

"I'm sorry."

It was never hatred I felt for him. No... far from it. It was pity. But, it didn't do well to pity a legendary soldier. And I'm sure he didn't want it. All I could do was pray for him...

"I'm sorry."

Pray for his sanity. Pray for his piece of mind. Pray that he be safe. And pray that he finds what he's looking for...

"I'm sorry."

I know, Dave... I know...

"I'm sorry."...

And I forgive you. 


	2. Snake

It had been a while since I left. I felt almost like a dog leaving, with his tail between his legs. I felt like a coward.

I left any life that I once had behind because I couldn't deal with myself.

And what I did to her.

Sure, I could infiltrate a heavily armed facility with nothing but my cigarettes - completely OSP - destroy an autonomous nuclear launch platform that happens to be all terrain walking battle tank, capable of mass destruction, which could be responsible for the end of the world. Of course I could do that.

But dealing with a woman was a completely different story - especially when it had to do with the "L" word.

Everything had started off well enough. After Shadow Moses, Meryl had joined me at my home in Alaska, and it was great in the beginning. We did a lot of things together, and it was honestly a new experience for me. I have had a fair share of women in my life, all of which had turned out to be romantic disasters. But somehow, everything seemed different when it came to Meryl.

But then my nightmares had started. It was always dark and desolate. The air felt thick and heavy, as if an invisible weight was bearing down on me, and no matter how far I ran, no matter how hard I'd push, I couldn't escape.

And then I'd see his face in front of me, with that smug grin, those piercing eyes...

I knew he was dead, but even in death, he still managed to torture me. He'd lunge at me, grab my throat and strangle the life out of me. I tried to fight back, tried to release his grip, but all I could feel was my body growing limp. And he'd stare into my eyes, his gaze enough to make my hair stand up on end. And he's always say...

"I hate you..."

Those words would penetrate me, run through me like a thousand needles. I gasped for breath, trying my damndest to break free, repeating to myself, "WAKE UP, WAKE UP!" The dream would fade, and as I slowly drifted back to consciousness, his face would still be there. I'd open my eyes, and I could still see it. I could feel myself shaking, my entire body soaked in a cold sweat. And then I'd see Meryl, sleeping next to me. So peaceful...

I envied her.

I had a reoccurring dream, where I was in nothing but black. I couldn't see anything. But I'd hear his voice. Almost taunting...

"Snake..."

Turn left. Nothing.

"Snake..."

Right. Nothing.

"SNAKE!"

All around me, nothing. I'd reach into my holster, grab my gun...

And wake up. With the gun pointed at Meryl.

Yet, all I could see was Liquid.

I heard her voice, but could not see her. I slowly regained myself... My eyes trailed down my arm, my gun in hand, looking down the barrel... to see it pointed directly between Meryl's eyes. And I would come to. I threw the gun and grabbed her, holding her. I felt so horrible to have let something like that happen...

But that wasn't the only time. It had happened several times... I'd see her sleeping, beautiful face... and the ugliness of my actions. She didn't know about those other times.

I tried my best to make it up to her. But somewhere, it never seemed like enough.

I started to feel empty. I felt as if I was on auto-pilot, numb to everything around me. I never got any thrill or mild satisfaction out of doing anything. I couldn't bring myself to work out, or play with the dogs... or please Meryl. I wasn't myself. And Meryl was introduced to this empty shell. Alcohol seemed to be the only solution.

I had taken my grief out on myself. Going out and binge drinking, coming home late at night, sometimes early in the morning. I was destroying myself. I knew it. And Meryl knew it. But I could never admit that out loud.

I'd come home, stumbling and tripping over myself... Not very becoming of a so-called "legendary soldier."

I went into the bathroom, feeling sick to my stomach. And it wasn't entirely the alcohol to blame. I leaned over the bathroom sink, trying to catch my breath; trying to regain any composure I may have had left. I felt like breaking down.

And in my moment of weakness, I caught myself staring into the mirror. Sometimes, I felt like slamming my fist into that mirror... But even I couldn't bring myself to destroy something whose only crime was reflecting too much honesty of what was before it.

And that honesty is what sickened me the most.

I felt as if I was losing myself. All I wanted was to know who I am. But apparently that was too much to ask.

I came to a realization - I had no clue who I was....

That being the case... how in the hell could I ever expect her to know?

How could I expect her to understand?

And how could I expect her to care?

I know she cared about me. I did. There was never any doubt it my mind. But maybe I just couldn't accept it. How she could she ever to love such a beast?

I had had a confrontation with Meryl after a long night of drinking. She interrogated me, and I kept my answers to a minimum. She pleaded with me, telling me she wanted to understand, and to let her in. But I couldn't. I just couldn't. I know what I would show her would scare her. So I went upstairs, slamming the bedroom door and falling onto the bed, clutching my head. I had a terrible headache.

I must have fell asleep, because I remember getting up out of the bed... but the next thing I remember is burning pain. I clutched my face. I was standing in front of the kitchen counter, seeing Meryl standing there, mug in hand. Tea. She threw hot tea at me. I knew by her terrified expression that I had done something awful.

"WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?!" she screamed at me.

"What? Meryl, I-"

"Get away from me! I don't know who you are anymore!" she yelled as she stormed out of the kitchen. And I felt sick to my stomach. Her words crushed me.

What had I done?

I slept on the couch that night, too ashamed to show my face around her.

The next few days were spent away from eachother. I tried to do things to keep my mind occupied, but I kept thinking about how much I must have hurt her without even realizing it. I spent a lot of time with the dogs because I felt that they didn't judge me. They provided the company I needed.

But I knew what I had to do.

I went to town the next morning, and purchased a promise ring for Meryl. She needed to know how I felt. That I was sorry for all of the horrible things I had done, and for dragging her down with me. I knew that maybe the ring was a crappy representation of what I really needed to communicate to her, but I felt that this gift was a material, legitimate symbol that would show that what I felt was real. It provided for me some sort of gratification. I bought her flowers also, and went back to the house. I opened the door and thought to myself, exactly what to say. And then I saw her standing on the steps, looking more radiant to me than ever. She walked to me.

"Meryl..." I whispered.

She silenced me with a finger to my lips. She looked deeply into my eyes and I had to embrace her, to hold her once again. And it felt good. We spent the whole night together, and that felt even better.

But even when I seemed to be peaceful awake, it all came back when I went to sleep. I still heard him, I still saw him... taunting me. He told me I'd never be happy. That it was all my fault. To leave. To run. And never come back. My eyes shot open, hearing the echo of his voice.

"Run..."

And I did. I slipped out of bed as silently as I could. I watched her sleep for a few moments. She looked so beautiful. I knew what I was leaving behind, but nothing could stop me. I needed to leave. I gathered clothes in a duffel bag and left. I opened the door to see the sun rising. I went to the dogs and released them. I knew they'd be fine on their own. I could feel that they felt confused, but I knew they understood. I reached into my pocket and grabbed the ring. I stared at it, sitting in the palm of my hand. This little thing represented my future, my future with Meryl. And I threw it, as hard as I could. Now it would be lost forever, taken by the snow. I took one last long look at the house, and went on my way. I left the house, left the state. And left any chance that I had of a happy future with Meryl.

I had left her a note before my departure. And the only thing that I could write was, "I'm sorry."

I knew that it wasn't enough. Those two words could never make up for everything I ever did to her, everything I put her through. I never expected her to forgive me. And frankly, I didn't want it. I didn't deserve it.

On the plane, I slept. I couldn't even bring myself to enjoy the view. When I got off the plane, Otacon was there. He asked no questions, but I think he knew. At his place, all I seemed to be able to do was sleep. And he left me alone for the most part. I stayed away from alcohol, partially because the one time I had it, Otacon tore it out of my hands. I felt like pummeling him, but I restrained myself.

After a while, Otacon had had enough, and brought his concerns to me. He stated that with what we knew, we needed to do something about it. And thus, the beginning of the Philanthropy. Philanthropy gave me purpose; it gave me a need to protect people. And when we were presented with a mission involving the development of a new Metal Gear on a tanker in Manhattan, I had to act and bring myself up, out of this hell that I had been living. I had spent too much time holed up in Alaska, drinking too much. I refused to let the world feel the pain that I had felt for so long, because no one, no matter how much they probably deserved it, should have to feel it. My thoughts always drifted to Meryl, and in my dreams, I'd see her sometimes. It came as a relief to me, seeing someone other than Liquid, who tormented me in my sleep. Thoughts of her were what kept me going most of the time. It almost felt as if she was my guardian angel, because she was the only one who was able to vanquish Liquid in my dreams.

I always felt regret nagging at me for leaving her. But I knew that we'd meet again someday... maybe when things were different, when the world was a better place.

There was a war coming... I could feel it. I didn't know when or how it would happen, but I knew that it was going to be a long and difficult struggle.

And I would keep going until the end, or die trying.

Maybe she could find it in her heart to forgive me... 


End file.
